


Shoot True

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Family Issues, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 08:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6322102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corrin is not who he expects.</p>
<p>Then again, he isn’t quite sure who he expected.</p>
<p>A character study of Takumi in Birthright and family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoot True

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge fan of these two's character interactions, but in a strict family way, and since I couldn't find something that fit that bill, I did it myself. Please leave comments if you want to see more: for all I know I'm writing for an audience of one and that audience is me.

After Corrin finds him, he has different nightmares.

He doesn’t remember them the day after, never enough to put into words. In fact, he’s often lucky if he can remember anything at all besides a fleeting image. It’s what marks them as different in his mind, the lack of memory, the fact he can’t remember the horror in those twilight hours that always wakes him up with his mouth already parted in a scream.

When Mikoto died, his nightmares were simple to recollect. An explosion. A dark wave of energy. Her huddled over the child who could very well be the true traitor, before collapsing entirely. 

The nightmares he has now are nothing like that. They are of a different brand, the kind that crawls under the skin and stays there. The kind that leaves him with only one image in his mind when he wakes up.

Corrin. Bleeding from their chest. Reaching out for him, blood on their lips. The word “brother” about to be their last.

In mornings after those nightmares, Takumi finds himself wishing he could have more about his step-mother, if only to stop himself from shaking. 

* * *

Corrin is not who he expects.

“Look,” they say, holding up the yumi Takumi has been teaching them on with a sense of pride. Their bare feet curl in the dirt, getting mud between each digit. “I hit the target.”

Takumi looks and sure enough, and arrow is in the target, right on the edge, but there nonetheless. Corrin’s grin grows wider with his inspection, and he can see in their face how much this means to them, managing to hit the target for the first time since they’ve started. 

When Takumi started this routine, it was with the hope Corrin would get bored, that they would get frustrated of working for something and leave him be. To find out otherwise has thrown him off. Takumi is still not sure if their effort is to gain his approval or to prove they can do it in the first place.

“Hitting the target means nothing if you don’t hit it well,” Takumi says, yanking the yumi out of Corrin’s grasp. He points at the target with his free hand. “You would have grazed your enemy. That leaves them with plenty of time to strike  you in return.” 

Corrin’s shoulder’s slump. It’s more noticeable with the cloth their wearing; they’re out of their normal armor. For once Takumi can look at them without thinking of Nohr. 

Some part of Takumi, the part that isn’t resentful, knows his reaction to Corrin’s wardrobe is his problem not theirs. The resentment, however, makes it hard to remember. Especially after nights when his nightmares seem to linger.

“You’re right,” Corrin says. “I’ll have to try harder.” They reach up for the bow and grab it gently out of his hands. When they look down at it, their expression reminds him of Mikoto when she got determined. Pure steel on a face so kind. 

No, Corrin is not who he expects.

* * *

Then again, he isn’t quite sure who he expected. 

When Corrin was taken, he was barely old enough to remember anything, let alone the sibling Nohr stole away. As he grew older, stories about the lost child were the only information he got about the family member he never got to met, their room his only real relic of who they used to be. Takumi could still remember hiding out in there sometimes when he was small, talking to the Corrin the servants spoke of. Corrin who would pick flowers for Hinoka every morning. Corrin who stuck out their tongue when they were upset. Corrin who would stand in front of him when he was scared, trying to protect their only baby brother. 

As he grew older, the image of Corrin changed. The lost child became a reminder of who Takumi wasn’t, who he never could be. Corrin’s legacy followed him around like a phantom, and Takumi could remember resentment build with each time of Corrin’s name, or Hinoka’s overprotective streaks on his safety. Instead of the friend he once imagined, Corrin became a stranger. A stranger raised in a land that hated them in every way. A stranger who could only prove dangerous.

It is only fitting that when Corrin shows up they refuse to fit in either of Takumi’s expectations. Even when they were lost, they always loved vexing him. 

* * *

When Takumi falls ill, the nightmares become almost solid enough for him to grasp.

Iago’s hand pressed flat against his face. Dark smoke taking him over, eating him from the inside out. The words “you are mine” in his ear. The feeling of phantom strings.

And then, before he can capture a single image to keep, it’s gone.

Corrin is there when he wakes up, sitting at his bedside, shoes missing as usual. Their hair, cropped short when this war started, is tucked behind their ears. When Takumi tries to sit up, their hand is quick to push him back down on the bed.

“Rest, Takumi.”

Warnings come to his lips, things that he knows are important but not the reason why. The specifics are already long gone to him. “You’re in danger.”

Corrin smiles and this time it seems brittle, like the slightest of movements would cause it to shatter. 

“Little brother,” they say, voice gentle. “I have always been in danger.”

And with that, Takumi sleeps. 

* * *

Takumi does not forget that conversation.

They practicing when he brings it up again, Corrin packing up their yumi. Takumi has forced them to quit early this time, worried of them agitating the injury they earned during their last session. When the arrows are put away, he finally hedges the subject.

“You said you were always in danger.”

Corrin looks back at him. They’re kneeling on the floor, easier to put the arrows away. “Excuse me?”

“Back when I was sick,” Takumi says again, shifting his weight to the other foot. It is odd, how uncomfortable he feels broaching the subject, knowing the truth that might meet him on the other side. “You said you were always in danger. What did you mean by that?”

Corrin presses their lips together, standing up. They lean back against the table they’re standing by and Takumi does not miss how their nails dig into the wood.

“I was treated well in Nohr,” Corrin starts, words slow but purposeful. “My siblings there, they loved me, as much as any family does. And my servants, they cared about me deeply. My life there was mostly carefree, there in the tower.”

Part of Takumi, the part that is bitter and vile, wants him to walk away. To end this story where he thinks it should end; on Corrin’s description of their beautiful life with the enemy. To let his expectations hold firm. 

This time, the resentment does not win. 

“But?”

Corrin lets out a deep breath. “My fat-” They cut off, gritting their teeth. “King Garon was always volatile. And I didn’t experience it nearly as much as the others, so far away from the capital. But he sent servants sometimes. And well....I knew what he wanted from me.”

“Which was?”

Corrin meets his gaze. “To keep in line. Be the perfect child. Or die like the rest.” They look up at the ceiling. ‘They never outright said it, of course, but it was implied. Enough for me to understand why I couldn’t stop practicing or studying. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it could be, I’m sure Camilla has horror stories, but….look you don’t want to hear me complain about this.” They turn away, headed towards the door. 

Takumi grabs their arm before they can leave.

“Corrin,” he says, trying to keep the rage out of his voice, the rage at himself for thinking it could have been so easy for his older sibling, for buying into the myth. “If you want to tell me this, I don’t mind.”

“But-”

“I don’t mind.”

And with that, Corrin walks back into the room and tells him about a land where they are currently at war.

* * *

This is what Takumi learns about Corrin:

     -They like their tea sweet, but are incapable of making it themselves.

      -They know how to do a variety of hairstyles, including his own.

     -They have never worn shoes, no matter how hard their servants tried. 

     -They pick and keep flowers to braid in other’s hair when they fall asleep.

This is what Iago wants Takumi to learn about Corrin:

-What their death rattle sounds like with an arrow through their heart. 

* * *

Iago does not learn what Corrin’s death rattle sounds like, in the end.

Takumi however, does. 

When Corrin goes down, surrounded by the shards of their Yato, Takumi is sure he will learn what his sounds like too, soon enough. But that doesn’t stop him from pulling his sibling aside from the crossfire of a dragon to terrible to look at.

“Wake up Corrin,” he says, shaking them while trying to feel for a pulse. Next to him Sakura is pouring all of the healing magic she has into the still form of what was once their lively sibling. “You do not get to do this. Not now.”

Corrin does not stir. Their pulse is almost non-existent. And Takumi’s heart sinks. 

“Please. Come’on.” No movement. “You can’t die. Not without-”

Without his apology for treating them like a stranger for so long. Without his apology for being the traitor all this time, for letting his resentment fuel him. Without teaching them how to hit a bullseye every time. 

The dragon roars in the background. Corrin is still. Takumi reaches for his bow and stands up, despite Sakura’s protests. 

If Corrin does not get up ever again, Takumi will make sure their killer stays down as well.

* * *

After all is said and done, Corrin wakes up in a bed they do not recognize with a pain in their bones that seems to lurk deep.

“Don’t move,” a voice says from their bedside. “After the fight you collapsed. You need rest.”

Corrin tries to open their eyes. “But-”

A hand settles on their forehead. The calloused palms of an archer. “Rest, Corrin. You are not in danger now.”

For the first time in years, Corrin believes it.   


 


End file.
